This is a Test

Ch. 2 - Part I - Day One

Cashe had to acknowledge that the habitat was an engineering marvel. Unimpressive in design, its construction was revolutionary, having been built by 3-D printing robots inside hundreds of feet of ice as the Anoptica scientists' dream scenario. Water had yet to be discovered on Mars, but hopefully, frozen deposits existed underground or near the carbon dioxide ice caps. If true, constructing a building within a glacier could serve multiple purposes. Besides for drinking, the water would serve as hydrogen for the fuel cells and oxygen for breathing. Burrowing in would provide shielding from solar radiation as well as a mountain of protection against the monstrous Martian storms. An above ground glacier would allow in natural light if a window were installed, as had been done with an eight-by-eight-foot porthole in the ceiling of the garden center.

The rest of the hydroponics lab was a drab, gray rectangle thirty feet wide and ninety feet long. Across from the entrance were two spaces separated by clear plastic windows. On the left was the laboratory and medical center that could also be used a surgical suite. To the right was the kitchen with a long table and bolted-down benches for a dozen habitants.

Over the next several hours, routines were developed and personal space was established. Cashe and Lia would utilize the server room, known as the Shop. Dante and Miranda would work in the Lab, as the chemistry and doctoring required a sterilized environment. The hydroponics center, or the Garden, would be Karina's domain. As Roger's only purpose was to collect rocks and soil samples, the Garage with the Rover would be his playground.

Besides their living quarters, the facility's only other space was at the Garden's end behind a set of doors where new construction progressed. Robots chopped up the glacier non-stop and deposited the chunks in trolleys that rolled through tunnels on the complex's outer edge. The ice would be melted and tested for prehistoric microbes that could carry some unforeseen disease.

Their contracts required fifteen minutes of daily group congregation for the benefit of their streaming audience. Dante had announced earlier with an unnecessary wink, "In addition to being a chemist, I'm somewhat of an amateur chef." He promised a feast, and with night approaching, dinner was soon to be served.

He summoned everyone to the kitchen. They filtered in to find him wearing thermal gloves, pulling out six round pans from the oven and dropping each on the counter-top. "Hot, hot, hot," he repeated as he removed them. Cloth napkins were on the table, a knife and fork atop each, along with a glass. "Everyone pick a seat. I'll bring them over momentarily."

"Pizza?" Roger asked with a sniff of the air. "Awesome. What kind?"

"Each has been made to your personal preferences," Dante said with a smile.

"And how do you know those?" Karina asked, squinting through a glare.

"It's in your files." They didn't follow, so he continued with, "Not your personnel files, or your personal files. The files in the Kitchen folder, under the Preferences sub-folder."

Cashe had not explored that part of the database yet, feeling no need to, but it became a subject of interest for all now. Lia and he consulted their tablets that they had brought to the dinner table, while Karina, Miranda, and Roger headed to the touchscreens that adorned the walls.

Cashe's file was extensive, as to be expected from the world's largest search engine. Foods were categorized by preference, starting with his favorites. The thoroughness was exampled by Drinks, orange juice, his daily refreshment, listed first with his preferred brand in parenthesis after. It was his everyday drink and the rest of the file matched in exactitude, which he found efficient and impressive, just another way the company kindly personalized to their tastes and comforts. He sought words encapsulating how Anoptica made him feel. Cared for? He had no frame of reference. Special? Possibly...

"This is fucking creepy," Karina snapped. "It's creepy as fuck."

Those weren't the words Cashe would have used.

She turned to the others. "Is anyone else bothered by this?"

Miranda and Lia seemed as distressed while Roger faltered at making his touchscreen work. Dante spoke over his shoulder as he sliced up the pies. "It's to be expected. They aggregate data. If they didn't, I wouldn't have been able to make these delicious works of art to your likings. Sit. Enjoy."

Pans were placed in front of Lia and Cashe. His pizza had been prepared in his custom way: plain, no cheese, and a singed crust. Dante served the rest as they sat. He held up gloved fingers and said, "Wait," before running to the refrigerator and coming back with a six-pack of beer and a single water, all in glass bottles.

"Hey, hey. That's what I'm talking about," Roger said, taking a bottle in one of his big bear paws and twisting off the cap in a practiced move.

Dante set the water in front of Miranda while placing the six-pack as a centerpiece. Cashe didn't drink, but he had learned to tolerate some liquors for business meetings. He examined the label, INTERPLANETARY HOPS; the fine print revealed it to be an Anoptica product. "Did you put these in the refrigerator or were they already there?" he asked.

Dante blinked and tilted his head back a bit. "I did. Does it matter?"

"I guess not. I just liked imagining that the robots were programmed to do so."

"No," Dante said with a laugh. He pointed to a bland wall at the back of the kitchen. "Behind that panel, there's a storeroom with some non-perishable or dehydrated products, including a couple cases of beer. Not many, so we should save them for special occasions, like this." He sat down and pointed at their dishes. "Dig in."

Some used the knives and forks to manipulate the slices from the dishes. "Good, huh?" the chef asked, and he was greeted with nods of approval. Cashe watched Lia cut straight lines across her four slices, using a fork to pull out each piece. He understood her pleased scrutiny. Her circular pizza had triangles cut out that would reveal a square once eaten. He would watch for new geometric shapes to be formed as she dined.

"Now, we're not going to be able to eat like this all the time. Most of our meals will be produced by the gardens—"

"Wait, what?" Roger lowered his beer bottle and used his forefinger to catch some droplets burrowing into his beard. "What about meat? We got steaks, right?" he said, sucking his fingertip with defiance.

"Well, some. The plant-based meats are freeze-dried and will last for--"

"What do you mean, plant meat? What the hell is plant meat?"

"Meat created from plants." Miranda said, explaining the obvious. "We don't want to start off life on a new planet with animal deaths."

"How much of this plant meat shit is there?"

Dante looked about, unsure as he said, "I think a few weeks' worth."

"Wait," and Roger slapped the air with open palms. "You're saying we are going to run out of actual food?"

"Why, no." Miranda beamed at him. "We'll be able to create salads, vegetable soups, and other healthy alternatives that can help some of us get into better shape."

"No, no, no. They promised me that we could eat steak and sirloin and T-bones. They said there would be plenty of meat. Meat-meat, not plant-shit meat."

Cashe recalled his own nutritional briefing where the trainer emphasized time and again that all meats were plant-based. He looked back to the garden. "I saw some sprouts coming up already that looked pretty appetizing."

"Sprouts?" The geologist's wide mouthed shout hit a higher octave.

Dante pointed at Roger's dish. "The sausage on your pie, there. That's plant-based meat. How's it taste?"

Roger plucked a piece off and popped it in his mouth. He stared skywards as he chewed, shrugged, and seemed to decide that his mouth could be used in better ways than complaining. Dante beamed.

"Our first meal together," and he raised his bottle. "Salut."